Mr Brightside
by Meadowcreek
Summary: Shawn refuses to ever call a day bad. Until a day like this happened at least... Mild language and some Shawn whump, poor guy... Please R&R I know you know I don't own Psych
1. Alarm Clocks: Beacause Nothing Says Good

**Alarm Clocks. Because Nothing Says 'Good Morning' Quite Like A Heart Attack.**

Shawn's body thrashed violently awake to the loud, harsh chiming of an alarm. He groaned and rolled onto his back, slapping a hand on the table next to his bed, searching for his phone. Who in their right mind would set his alarm for… 3:30 in the morning?! _Gus, when I see you later today, your paying for my cardiac arrest bills._

Shawn blinked rapidly, trying to blink the sleep-fog from his eyes. He laid there for several moments before deciding he was not going to be able to fall back to sleep. Darn. Well, at least he'll get a jump start on the day a maybe get some extra 'work Lassie up' time. If he were lucky he might even be able to put another stress line on Lassiter's forehead.

Pushing the sheets back, he tried to ignore the fact that it was only 3:38 a.m. which meant he had about…. Six hours until he was needed (which mean the would show up there until like another 4 after that) at the Psych office and another four until the station would call. So he started his usual morning routine. He took an extra long shower, got dressed in his favorite pair of jeans and shirt, and spent thirty minutes making sure his hair was perfect. He had time to waste, so why not do it in style? He turned expecting it to be late, only to let out a gasp to see it was only 5:40, the suns first hesitant light creeping through his window.

_That's just cruel,_ Shawn thought, flopping down on his couch. He flipped aimlessly through the channels for about another hour then got up.

He felt like the walls were closing in. the couldn't breathe. He had to get out of here. There were dark clouds in the sky, but the weather women had said no rain, and in Shawn's opinion weather people were never wrong, right?

Grabbing a light jacket, Shawn hopped on his bike and rode to the nearest Starbucks. Shawn didn't normally need coffee, but on toughs rare occasions when he was given a heart rate check at 3 in the morning, he made sure that was the first thing on his check list.

He pulled up to Starbucks and went inside. After ordering a delicious mocha he turned to walk out and crashed into somebody.

"Hey! Why don't you watch were the hell your going, huh?" An angry voice exclaimed.

"Sorry I- Lassie?" Shawn's hazel eyes met the blue eyes Detective Carlton Lassiter.

"Spencer!" Lassie choked out through gritted teeth, "Who told you that you could have coffee?"

His coffee! Quickly he thanked the pineapple god that none of it had spilled. Oh, he didn't care about Lassie, the fact is he only brought enough money to buy one coffee.

Shawn frowned, "I'm a grown man, Lassie, I can buy coffee if I want." he tried not to show how worn out he was.

"You act like a toddler when your not all drugged up on caffeine, and I don't want to find out how you act when you are!" Lassie growled, then, lunging forward with speed neither of the men knew he had, plucked the coffee from Shawn's hands and tossed it into the garbage.

"Carlton!" Shawn yelled running over to the garbage and looking inside. The coffee had landed upside down and was spilling into the bottom of the garbage can. Great. "Lassie! I _needed _that!" Shawn wailed, flabbergasted, and dug his nails into his palms, gritting his teeth with almost unbearable urge to throw a giant tantrum. Lassiter, ignoring the young psychic's episode, proceeded to the counter where he ordered his own coffee.

Shawn, fuming, stormed out the door and climbed on his motorcycle. As he was sliding his helmet on, a drop of water landed on his hand. He looked up. Mistake. A cloud burst and rain poured down onto his face. Shocked, he stumbled backwards and knocked over his bike. He was soaked in an instant. Tugging his helmet off, he lifted his bike and assessed the damage. Not anything serious, just a few scratches. Shivering, with his clothes plastered to his body, he mounted the bike and rode away, toward the Psych office. He stopped outside, and when he got off his soaked jeans around the ankle snagged on the bike and ripped with that long, sickening sound. A cold wind blew, splattering icy rain against the now bare part of his leg. _Not my favorite pair of pants! _

Shivering violently, he could barely dig the key out of his pocket. He flung the door open and entered.

"Shawn! Its like Antarctica out there!" Gus yelled from the other room, "Close the door will ya-" he broke off when he came around the corner and saw his friend. His eyes took in Shawn's blood-shot eyes and the dark circles under them, the violent shivering, and of course, his soaked body. Gus's eyes sparkled with amusement, but his face was serious.

"You look like hell, Shawn." his voice crackled with concern.

"I know I look like hell, Gus. I think most people who wake up at 3:30 in the morning do. And I've got you to blame for that." Shawn growled as he walked over to the bathroom to change.

"Gus! Spare clothes?!" Shawn yelled.

"In the cabinet!" Gus yelled back, not attempting to get up from behind his laptop.

"Uh, can you hand me a pair of my pants and a shirt?" Shawn stuck his hand out the cracked door and waved it around.

"Why cant you?" Gus groaned.

"I could, but then you'd have to see my pineapple boxers," came the reply.

"Oh god no." Gus jumped up and snatched a shirt and pants throwing them through the crack in the door. Shawn chuckled.

"So you've had a pretty crappy day, huh?" Gus asked as Shawn came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

"Oh, Gus, I refuse to have a bad day, much less a crappy day. Where's the hair gel?" he asked looking through several cabinets and letting them slam shut loudly.

"Left cabinet closest to the door."

Shawn grabbed the hair gel and scooped a glob into his palm. Then he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I mean, a day like this could always be worse, right?" Shawn said not looking away from his reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah I guess."

Shawn wrinkled his face up and sneezed into his palms. Gus jumped then eyed his friend with disgust.

"Oh, man! I cant tell if this is snot of hair gel! What do you think?" Shawn opened his palms and pointed them in Gus's direction.

"That's disgusting, Shawn!" Gus yelled, gagging.

Shawn laughed, "I'm just kidding, dude! Don't lose your lunch over me!" he smirked. Shawn walked back into the bathroom and washed his hands, and came out again. He sat down on the couch and propped his feet up. Turning on the T.V he flipped through the channels. Gus got up and went to the bathroom.

"Hey, Gus! Spongebob is on!" he yelled. It didn't matter though. By the time Gus came out of the bathroom, Shawn was fast asleep on the couch.


	2. He Might Change His Mind

Shawn awoke, shivering. He was curled into the fetal position on the couch in the Psych office. A blanket had been draped over his body, and the office was silent, except for the sound of rain drumming steadily on the window pane.

"Gus?" he asked in a nasally voice. The office echoed an eerie silence. He groaned and tucked the blanket around him tighter, letting his head drop back down onto the armrest. A note was on the remote. Reaching out a shaky hand he grasped it and read.

_Shawn,_

_I went home after Spongebob ended. You missed some good episodes. Anyway, I would have offered you a ride home, but your bike is outside. I put it inside for you and locked the door.__ keep it locked__! You don't want a repeat of what happened in Canada do you?_

_Gus_

Shawn smirked and crumpled the note up. Suddenly his phone rang loudly, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. After writhing awkwardly on the couch for a moment as he dug in his pocket, he answered.

"ello…?"

"Spencer? Sweet Justice, what happened to you?" Lassie asked, biting back a chuckle.

"I think its jus' a cold. I 'ope its jus' a cold." Shawn replied.

"I hope its not."

"Thanks for the compassion." Shawn growled, rolling his eyes.

"Well, since you sick, I'll just tell O'Hara you can't work the case."

"Wait! No! Lassie, I'm not _that _sick!" As if on cue, Shawn punctuated that sentence with a sneezing coughing fit.

"Well. I'll admit you sound like the picture of health," Lassiter said sarcastically. "I've already wasted enough of my breath talking to you. Good-bye."

"Nooooooooooooooo!" Shawn moaned. To late. The line went dead. Pouting he sat up right and sneezed three times. Grabbing a box of tissue he blew his nose loudly.

"That's disgusting." a voice echoed in the room. Shawn jumped and looked up, seeing Gus standing in the doorway he relaxed.

"Hi."

"Hey," Gus said setting a pizza box on his desk.

Shawn's face lit up, "Gus you brought me pizza. I will love you forever now. Give me a hug!" Shawn teased Gus and stood up unsteadily, opening his arms.

"Get away from me, Shawn!" Gus said eyes widening. Shawn staggered toward him.

"I'm serious! Get back! Do you have any idea how much bacteria is coating your skin right now?!" Shawn was within touching distance now. Gus seeing no escape shrieked, "GET AWAY!" he grasped a book and flung it at Shawn. In his sluggish, sickened state he could not dodge it in time and it smacked him in the forehead. Shawn let out a yelp and grabbed at his head.

Gus laughed.

Shawn stumbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A bruise was already forming. He moaned as a headache was coming on, from the cold not getting hit in the head with a book, and walked back out slumping down on the couch.

"How many slices, Shawn?" Gus asked.

"Two! No! ten!" Shawn called back as he pulled the blanket around his shoulders.

"Two it is." Gus handed him a plate. Shawn dove into the pizza hungrily, he hadn't eaten all day and I was already 3:33pm.

"So," Gus asked after he swallowed a mouthful of pineapple pizza, "You got woken up at 3 in the morning, had you coffee thrown away by Lassie, got soaked, scratched your bike up, caught the flu, and now have a giant bruise forming in the middle of your forehead. 'Sure there's no such thing as Shawn Spencer having a bad day?"

"Guth, itsh like I've been telling you," Shawn said with his mouthful, "I believe everyday is a gift and shall be treated as such. Ish that root beer?"

Gus rolled his eyes and shook his head. Shawn would never learn. Gus then got up and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged a moment later with a fistful of anti-bacterial wipes.

"Dude, seriously?" Shawn asked.

"Yes, Shawn. From just the little time you've been here, you managed to infect _everything_. And I, for one, am not getting sick." he ran frantically around the room, disinfecting everything. Now it was Shawn's turn to roll his eyes.

The phone rang.

"I got it!" Shawn went to jump up, but became lightheaded and plopped back down with a nauseated groan.

"Don't you dare throw up on this carpet, Shawn." Gus warned over his shoulder and strode out of the room to answer the phone.

"Don't worry, Gus, buddy," Shawn said squeezing his eyes shut and cradling his head in his palms, "If I throw up I'll be sure its on your desk."

A second later Gus came flying around the corner, eyes wide.

"Gus I was jus' jo-" Shawn started.

"Shawn, we gotta go, now!"

"What? Gus whats wrong?" he asked alarmed.

"We gotta go, _now,_ Shawn!" Gus lunged over and jerked Shawn roughly to his feet. Pushing Shawn out the door and into the blueberry, he gunned the car and sped out of the parking lot, tires squealing. Shawn hit the door roughly and cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder.

"Gus! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Shawn yelled angrily, sniffing loudly to prevent his inflamed nose from running.

Gus didn't even have to answer. In the rearview mirror, a black SUV skidded into view, and pursued after them.

"Who is that?" Shawn asked eyes wide.

"Your remember that girl we busted who murdered that British scholar and then started stalking you?" Gus said quickly.

"Gus, 'stalked' is such a unfriendly word."

"Its not supposed to be friendly! If someone is stalking you, its obviously not a 'friendly' thing!"

"Well, I prefer to say… watched from a very close distance. Not 'stalked'. Stalked. Uhhhh." Shawn shuddered, "I just gave myself the chills with that word."

Gus glared, "THAT'S HER SHAWN!" he yelled, tossing his head toward the van. The back window of the blueberry shattered, sending glass shards sailing through the air. Several more gunshot's split the air, and Shawn screamed, "Look out Gus!" as the SUV pulled up beside them. Gus swerved, and lost control, the car rolling down the road before coming to a stop upside down in a ditch. The SUV's tires skidded as it drove away, but the blueberry, was oddly silent.


	3. Of Crushed Faces an Disembowelment

Shawn was wet. No, soaked was more of the term. Something warm dripped on his face from… next to him? Gus! Shawn gasped and blinked open his eyes. It was dark. And to make matters worse he was dangling upside down, the seatbelt locked securely around his waist and shoulders. He looked at Gus.

Gus had been knocked unconscious, a wound on his face gushing blood. Shawn knew face wounds looked worse than they actually were, so he wasn't concerned about how the blood dripped off of Gus's face and mingled with the mud and rain water below. Mud and rain water? Shawn turned his head to look down, toward the roof of the blueberry, and cursed quietly. _Now I'm going to have whiplash for a week._ he thought as the felt the stiffness spreading down his neck and arms. But that was the least of his worries now. The glass window next to him cracked open loudly, as gallons of mud and rain water forced its way in. _were going to drown in mud!_ Shawn thought panic flaring in his chest. He hit the seatbelt, and tried not to thrash around in panic as he discovered it was jammed. He looked out the windshield and saw mud and water slowly rising. It would only be a matter of time before that glass broke too.

His eyes scanned for something, anything, and finally he found a jagged piece of glass, but it was just out of reach. Straining, he reached out a hand and managed to grasp it. When he brought it up to his face, he handled it wrong and the jagged edge sliced the palm of his hand open. He didn't feel the pain. He quickly began to saw the seatbelt. When the last strap released, he immediately regretted doing that. He fell head first into the mud at the bottom, top, of the car.

"I did _not _think that through." he groaned wiping mud from his fever glazed eyes.

Quickly he scrambled, more like slipped and face-planted, up next to Gus. He tried Gus's seatbelt. It too, was jammed.

"This is why I hate seatbelts, Gus!" Shawn told his unconscious buddy and began to saw his seatbelt off. It was then the windshield broke. Mud and water sloshed in at an alarming rate. It was up to his chest and he sawed at Gus's seatbelt even more fiercely. It snapped and Gus slumped against the steering wheel. Shawn tried to rouse Gus.

"Gus! Hey buddy, wakey wakey!" Shawn shook Gus roughly.

Gus replied with a low moan of pain. Shawn couldn't tell how bad Gus was hurt, but at the moment, all he cared about was getting his buddy out of the car. Gus blinked open his eyes, confusion clouding his vision. Shawn said loudly above the sound of creaking metal and pounding rain, "Burton, listen to me! Wake up! Listen!" Gus seemed surprised at Shawn using his full name and was immediately alert. He tried to speak, but blood rushed into his mouth, causing his to gag. Seeing his surroundings Gus whimpered softly, and slumped down in the mud on the floor.

"Are we gonna die, Shawn?" he asked pitifully.

"Not today. Tomorrow, maybe, but not today. Follow me." Shawn army-crawled on the floor of the car, towards the back window, Gus following him closely. Shawn pulled himself out of the blueberry and into the pouring rain. As he pulled himself out the back window, the shards of glass racked along his belly, cutting him. He fell out the window with a yelp of pain and lay boneless in the mud. Gus was at his side.

"Come on, Shawn. What if she comes back?"

"Then she'll find one of us disemboweled and the other with a crushed face. We did her job for her." Shawn replied matter-of-factly.

Gus self-consciously touched his bloody cheek and frowned. He helped Shawn to his feet and then both tried to scramble out of the ditch. It was about 10 feet deep and 5 feet wide. The both tried unsuccessfully to get a running start, leap, then crawl the rest of the way up. Finally Shawn said, "Dude, give me a lift,"

"Why you?"

"Because I thought of it."

"So?"

"So its my idea."

Gus frowned even worst.

"Don't be the salt that I got in my paper cut yesterday. Bend over."

"Why?"

"Because I'm cant jump on top of you, Gus! I could try, but then we would both end up with sprained necks."

Gus grumbling, bend over and allowed Shawn to scramble on top of his back, then Shawn managed to pull himself the rest of the way out.

"Now you pull me out," Gus said. No response. "Shawn?" Gus's eyes widened. "Don't you dare leave me, Shawn!"

Shawn's hands appeared over the edge followed by a short tempered, "Today, Gus." Gus grabbed his buddies hands and Shawn heaved him up.

"Gosh! You need to lay off the big macks Buddy!" Shawn grunted as he managed to pull him over to the side of the road.

"I could say the same for you!" Gus panted.

"Dude look!" Shawn exclaimed. Headlights. Shawn flagged the truck down, right when Gus passed out from relief.


	4. Jessie's Girl

Shawn fell to his knees, clutching his shoulder. He looked behind him, Gus had woken up and was crawling over to him. The two best friends sat on their knees side by side. The car veered off the road and stopped in front of them. Of all the people in the world, a salt and pepper haired man climbed out and a familiar blonde hopped out.

"Shawn?! Gus?!" Juliet gasped sprinting over to the two men caked in mud and blood. Lassiter was on her heels.

"What the hell happened to you guys?!" Carlton asked, concern written all over his face.

"Is that the blueberry?" Juliet gasped pointing to the car in the ditch.

"Yes," Gus gasped. He winced.

"Whats wrong buddy?" Shawn asked, wincing himself and grabbing at his shoulder.

"I think I sprain my coccyx." Gus replied, face twisted with pain.

Shawn rolled his eyes and looked down, "I thought I told you to stop saying that,"

"Grow up, Shawn!" Gus shot back short temperedly.

"We need to get you guys to a hospital," Lassiter said helping Gus to his feet while Shawn allowed Jules to help him. They sloshed through the mud and got into the car, speeding to the hospital, sirens blaring.

XXxXxXxXxXx

Shawn woke up in a lumpy uncomfortable hospital bed. He gazed around through blurry eyes and groaned letting his head fall back onto the pillow. His arm was in a sling and one side of his face was bandaged. His injuries included: A dislocated shoulder, a split cheek, several cuts and bruises, and a slight concussion. Gus's included: A fractured

cheek bone, a concussion, and a heavily sprain wrist. They doctors said they where lucky. Shawn believed them.

Just then Henry burst in the room. Gus, who was laying in the hospital bed next to Shawn, jumped awake.

"Shawn!" Henry ran over and hugged his son. Shawn, taken by surprise, hesitated, but then hugged back. They broke apart and then Henry looked over his kid.

"You alright, kiddo?" he asked.

"Fine dad."

"Good" then he flicked Shawn's ear.

"Ow!" Shawn yelped, "What was that for?!"

"For scaring me!" Henry huffed. Gus chuckled, then winced and rubbed his temple. Jules and Lassie came in the room.

"Good news!" Jules announced, "Your doctors said you could be discharged today and that you didn't suffer any brain trauma!"

"Any _new _brain trauma, that is- humph." Lassie added, but broke off as Jules elbowed him in the ribs. "But since were on the topic I guess I'm supposed to ask, Spencer, Guster, how are you feeling?" he continued.

Shawn grinned, ear to ear. "Oh, other then PAIN I guess I feel fine."

Lassie frowned, "Don't be a smart-ass, Spencer. I could of kept driving."

Shawn only smiled wider, "You say that, but you don't mean it."

"Shut up."

"Oh, Lassie-face! You do care!" Shawn grinned stupidly. Lassiter tried to keep a straight face, he really did, but a small smile tugged the corners of the older mans mouth. Gus sat up and looked around.

"Do we have clothes to change into?"

Jules nodded and dug around in the bag she was carrying, handing Gus a shirt and pants and tossing Shawn his clothes. Everyone left and allowed them to change.

"Hey Gus?" Shawn asked. The curtain that separated their rooms rustled.

"Yeah?"

"You still scared of blood?" Shawn asked, pulling his jeans on.

Gus thought for a moment, "Not as much as I used to be. Although I'm terrified of SUV's now."

Shawn was silent, as he struggled to get his shirt on over his sling. "Yeah same here."

After they finished changing they walked out into the lobby, where they were discharged. Lassiter was waiting for them.

"Chief said I had to give you clowns a ride to your office." He stated, not looking to thrilled.

Shawn and Gus exchanged glances.

"Get in that car?" Shawn asked, eyebrows raised. Lassiter nodded. "With you?"

Lassie rolled his eyes, "Spencer, either you want the ride or not! Make up your mind!" he snapped.

Shawn looked at Gus.

"I'm not walking," Gus decided, walking to the car.

Shawn groaned and said, "Alright, shot gun!" he ran over to the passenger side of the cruiser.

"But I had to sit in the back of the cop car last time!" Gus protested.

"Until you call 'shot gun' I get it." he replied, hopping in the car. Lassiter pulled out of the hospital and was barely on the road when Shawn's hand slipped over to the radio.

"No music, Spencer." Lassie said, slapping his hand away.

"Lassie! The spirits want to celebrate my survival with some good music. Your not going to deny them that, are you?" Shawn glared at Carlton.

"Fine. Keep it down though." Shawn beamed, obviously proud at having won the argument.

XXxXxXxXxXx

"Jessie's girrrl! I wish that I had Jessie's girrl!" Shawn sang loudly as they pulled into the parking lot of the Psych office. He turned expectantly to Gus.

"Where can I find a women like that? Oooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhh hh!" Gus finished. Lassiter hit the button, turning off the music.

"Thanks for the ride, Lass-of-frass!" Shawn called over his shoulder as him and Gus hopped out, slamming the door extra hard.

Carlton sat ridged at the wheel. After half an hour of listening to a various array of 80's music sung by two very tone deaf idiots he had a massive headache coming on. Putting the car into drive he popped an aspirin. He was certain over half of his childhood music, he would never be able to listen to again.

XXxXxXxXxXx

"Think he'll give us a ride again anytime soon?" Shawn asked, a smirk on his face as he sat down on the couch, adjusting his sling and watching Lassie's car ease out of the parking lot.

"Nope." Gus replied sitting down next to him, the cast on his wrist making him fidget.

"Oh look!" Shawn exclaimed, "Spongebob is on!" he punctuated that remark with a sneeze. Gus scooted away. Grabbing a couple of tissues Shawn blew his nose.

Gus's face wrinkled up slightly, then he sneezed into his arm.

Shawn and Gus exchanged shocked glances, "Ha! Your getting sick!"

"No I'm not its just-" he coughed.

"Ha!" He burst out laughing, which made him start cough, and Gus folded into a sneezing coughing fit.


	5. You Know Thats Right

Henry moaned and rolled over, palm smacking the table next to him. Grabbing his cell phone, he answered gruffly, "Hello?" a bout of coughing was the reply.

"Hey, dad." Shawn wheezed. Coughing was in the background as well.

"Shawn, you better have a great explanation for waking me up at two thirty in the morning." Henry growled, finger about to press the "end call" button.

"Well, I'm sick, and Gus is _really_ sick. And well, I was sorta wondering, if you could pick us up and take us to our apartments."

Henry rubbed his eyes and sighed, "Fine. Wait, what kind of sick are we talking about here?"

"Coughing, sneezing, runny nose, itchy eyes, fever, cold sweats. Is that enough information for you?" Shawn asked bad temperedly, bursting into another coughing fit.

"Don't get snappy with me, kiddo. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

XXxXxXxXxXx

"Dad? Dad turn! My apartment is that way…" Shawn's father drove straight through the intersection, not even making an attempt to stop. Gus exploded into another coughing fit in the back of his dads car. He wheezed several times in the back of the car trying to regain his breath.

"Its okay, you can just take a right up here…." his father drove straight through that intersection too. Shawn's head turned as he looked at his father. His eyes flashed with revelation, "No, Dad, no…" he groaned and coughed, "Why?"

"Because, if you get to bad you have to go to the hospital, and I know if your alone you wont."

"Dad its just the flu!" he protested, "Right, Gus? We'll be feeling better by tomorrow, wont we?"

"Yeah," Gus choked out, "because we'll be dead!"

"Oh my god! Its just the flu!"

"Or the plague!"

Shawn's phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Spencer," it was Lassie. There was a thin rasping noise on the other line.

"What's wrong Lassie? Did Timmy fall down the well again?" Shawn asked.

"Shut up Spencer I'm not in the mood for your crap. I have the flu and O'Hara's coming down with it too."

Shawn's eyes widened. _Oops_ he thought, "Well, uh, that's to bad. Why, um, did you call me?"

"You and Guster need to take the case."

"Well, were kinda…."

"Kinda what?"

"Kinda sick too…"

There was silence as Lassiter put it together. Then he exclaimed, "It was you! You did this!"

Shawn rolled his eyes, "Yes, it was me, glad you figured that out, Sherlock Holmes."

"Spencer, when I-"

"Oh no! Were going through a tunnel, I'm losing you, Lassie, losing you!" he crackled paper over the receiver, cutting off Lassiter's rant about how there where no tunnels in Santa Barbra. Shawn hung up. Henry smirked and said, "So you've infected everyone?"

Shawn chuckled, "Yep. Even Lassiter. Guess he's not made of stone."

The ride home was awkwardly silent.

XXxXxXxXxXx

Shawn sipped his soup loudly. Gus glared at him from were he was sitting next to him. They where at Henry's house, sitting on his couch, eating soup and watching Ghostbusters.

"Can't you eat your soup quietly, Shawn? Your making my headache flare back up." Gus complained, rubbing his temple.

Shawn looked at Gus bad temperedly and purposely slurped his soup again. Silence except for their hoarse breathing and the sound of the marshmallow man terrorizing the city. Finally Shawn sighed, staring into his soup bowl, he said, "Hey, Gus?"

"Yeah?" Gus asked, not taking his glassy eyes from the screen.

"This has been a really crappy day."

"You know that's right."

**One more chapter? No? Yes? Maybe? Let me know.**


	6. Cootie's and Fudge Brownies

"I'm seeing…a guinea pig! No, scratch that, I see… a pit-bull!" Everyone in the room, Gus included, exchanged confused glances.

"How do you go from a guinea pig to a pit-bull?" Lassiter asked, holding an icepack against his throbbing head. His red nose burned and his hair was a mess. Jules sat next to him, eyes bloodshot, nose red, and popping several Advil into her mouth. Gus sat ridged in his chair, focusing on not coughing. Shawn was the only one who was better. Lucky.

"Pit-bull, Terrier, Cocker Spaniel, dog, no….not dog…. Hot dog!" Shawn slammed his hands down on Lassiter's desk. then heaved himself up on the desk and stood on top of it, stepping on Carlton's papers.

"Dog…Dog…. Ups…Mail! Check the mail!" Shawn dropped his hands to his sides and stared around the room. Nobody made an attempt to move.

Shawn scoffed, "Well don't everybody jump up at once." he got up and walked outside opening the mail box. He pulled out four small boxes and brought them into the room.

"That's what you called us down here for?" Lassiter growled, furiously, making an attempt to get up and storm out.

"Hear me out, Lassie-face!" Shawn said pushing the detective back down into his chair.

Opening up one of the boxes, the pulled out a rich chocolate brownie. He gave it to Jules. Then he opened up another, and gave it to Gus. Then he opened the last one and gave a brownie to Lassie.

"What's this for?" Gus asked suspiciously, eyeing the brownie in his palms.

"It's just, I guess, to say I'm sorry for getting you guys all sick," Shawn hung his head and actually did look sorry. Everyone continued to stare. Shawn looked back up.

"What?! I washed my hands! I swear!" he held his palms out for everyone to see.

"No, its not that…you did wash your hands though, right?" Jules asked.

Shawn rolled his eyes, "Yes, Jules!"

"This is really nice…." Jules trailed off and stared at the brownie. Shawn beamed, obviously proud of his attempt to make amends. Gus, Jules and Lassiter all smiled and bit into the brownies. They were delicious. Shawn ate his and when he finished, he leaned back and tossed the box away.

"Thanks, Shawn," Jules smiled and went to hug him. He put his arms out only to pull back at the last minute, and stare at her like she was going to kill him.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Cooties!" Shawn squeaked. Gus made a small noise. Shawn turned and glared at him, "Gus, do you not remember the great cootie outbreak of 2007?" Gus shrugged.

"Well, thanks anyway Shawn." Jules smiled then sneezed all over him.

"Ha!" Gus yelled.

Shawn shrugged, "Its just some germs. I'll live."

Gus rolled his eyes, "You think cooties are worse than germs? Really?"

"Gus, everyone _knows_ cooties are worse than germs."

Lassiter stood up and walked over to them. "I have to go." he cast Shawn a suffering glance and mumbled, "Thanks."

"What was that Lassie? I didn't quite hear you!" Shawn cupped his ears.

Carlton shook his head and walked out the door, Juliet following. She waved franticly then closed the door behind her. Shawn, proud of himself, walked into the kitchen of his dads house and reached into his pocket. His finger connected with the thing he was reaching for and he pulled it out of his pocket, crumpling it.

"What do you have there, kiddo?"

Shawn jumped when he heard his dads voice. He turned seeing his father leaning up against the wall, blocking the garbage can.

"Oh…papers and, huh, whatnot." he tried to move around his dad.

"Let me see." Henry held out his hand.

"No!" Shawn jerked his arm back, eyes wide.

"Let me see it!" Henry lunged forward, grabbing his sons arm and trying to wrestle the paper away from him all the while Shawn screamed, "No! No! No! No! No! No!"

Henry grabbed the paper and opened it.

_Hannah's bakery _

_4 fudge brownies_

_Total: $10.20_

Henry grinned and turned to look at his son.

"You're a terrible person." Shawn pouted. Henry laughed, crinkled up the receipt and bouncing it off Shawn's forehead.

"Whatever, kid, whatever."


End file.
